Scorn
by Shaydux
Summary: She was so different from what Altair had last seen of her.  She was broken, and it was all his fault...  Rated M for strong adult themes
1. Chapter 1

**Well, I'm back! After about, what was it, a year? Senior year of high school ate up my time and summer was all about me getting a job. But now that I'm steady off in college, I have more time to devote to my writing so I can finally get them all up here! So, here goes! This story takes place alongside the Assassin's Creed I game. Introducing, my OC: Tarja….**

"Aaaaah! Stop, please, I am sorry! I am sorry, I am I am!" With a flick of the wrist, a man clothed in white lashed his whip down upon the back of a young woman who was shackled to a cold stone wall, facing its thick hide.

"Infiltrating the Brotherhood," a crack "Impersonating an assassin," a slash "Disgracing _our _traditions and soiling them with your kind! Haneous!"

"Please! I beg mercy please I beg mercy! I-ahhhh! I am nothing!" the woman screamed as a lash broke the skin on her soft, gentle back. Once beautiful and faithful, now tattered and desperate, the woman began to cry. She cried long and hard and wondered why this turmoil haunted her family. Her brothers' turmoil, one killed, one without an arm. Her father's turmoil, dying with a broken heart at the fault of a foolish, arrogant man, and her mother…

"Please stop!" she begged once more, only to receive a stinging blow of the man's whip to her back again, and again.

_One Year Earlier…_

"Everyone get back! Back to the castle! Into the castle!" a soldier shouted as he ran up the slopes of Masayaf, waving his arms frantically towards the tall castle at the top of the slopes. Tarja turned her head from the tub of clothes she was scrubbing and gazed in the direction of the soldier in confusion. Tarja's father, Imod, sat on a wooden chair at next to the front door of their home. He turned to Tarja, his dry, long, white beard moving with him.

"Go, Tarja. Go to the castle," he said with a broken voice. Tarja became panicked.

"Father! Let me help you!" Tarja said as she reached for his arm. He pulled it away.

"Tarja no! I said go. Do you understand me? Go, child, go!" he shouted, beginning to stand from the chair while straining. Tarja stood for a moment and hesitated. How could she leave her disabled father to the danger that was quickly approaching. She looked to the city gates only to see a dark-looking man on horseback, lavished with shining armor and an evil face. Behind him was a plethora of soldiers, all in unison, galloping into the city with a dark purpose. She then looked back at her father who was still recovering from standing from the chair. She quickly reached to steady him and held onto his frail arm.

"Tarja!" a voice called from behind her. She turned quickly, her brown braid flailing to her side. It was Altair. He was running, full sprint, towards her. Tarja quickly recognized his intents and turned back to Imod, frantically trying to hurry and help him escape. He grimaced and pulled away from her.

"Leave me! Damn you, child, leave me! Go with Altair now!" he barked.

"Father!" she began before Altair came from behind her and swung her over his shoulder and began to run again as she screamed. Tarja looked up from Altair's back to her father, who stood watching her go, the evil army now getting closer to where her father stood and where she wanted to stand. She felt a rush of emotion overtake her. Why wasn't she there with her father? Why was she not fighting Altair's grasp.

"Let me go! Put me down I say!" Tarja screamed as she got a hold of her bearings. She screamed and shrieked as she banged her fists as hard as she could onto Altair's back. It was no use, his back was hard as stone, and she knew he wasn't in any pain from it. So she stopped and held onto the cloth on Altair's back, and began to cry.

"We have to get to the castle, Al Mualim will know what to do! Stay here with me, Tarja!" Altair shouted as he ran up the slopes and past frantic civilians, some of which would not survive the escape. Tarja barely understood what Altair was saying. Imod was out of sight now, and she could only imagine now what the soldiers would do to him. She tried to stop that thought from growing, but she knew it was true…

Altair and Tarja had made it to the inside of the castle just as the guards began closing the iron gates. Tarja looked in horror at the terrified civilians who would be slaughtered on the spot. They shook the gates as hard as they could, some trying to squeeze in between the bars, desperate for salvation. Tarja clenched her eyes shut and tried to block out the chorale of screams around her. Her only source of comfort now was Altair, she knew she was safe. But it killed her inside that the others were not as fortunate as her. She said a prayer for them.

Altair flung her back around to his front and put her on the ground, making sure she was able to stand. Tarja looked into Altair's eyes with a mix of hate, concern, and comfort. He was certainly no protector of her family. The two looked at each other for a long time, and Tarja spoke,

"Where are my brothers? Where is Malik? And where is Izrail?" she asked, knowing Altair had left Masayaf with them, but had not returned with them. Altair looked steadily into her eyes, captivating her with his rugged stare before he quickly ran off, responding to a soldier shouting for him. Tarja was left amid the scene of absolute terror. Mothers cried for their children, children for their mothers, lovers for their partners. Tarja was left alone, her family gone. She wandered through the scene around her, astounded at her circumstances. There was space underneath the stairs that led up to the palace entrance. She drifted towards them, so desperate to be saved from the horror around her. So desperate to be with herself, and to not be seen, she sat in the cold underside of the stairs and watched from her safe place all the pain and misery surrounding her. All these people were safe behind tall stone walls, but their hearts in danger. Tarja turned away and faced the wall to watch the dancing shadows of the tormented souls behind her, and she closed her eyes. Her only escape was her mind…

"Altair! You nearly caused the death of Malik, you burdened him with a cripple, and the death of his brother, Izrail! You caused the young girl her sanity, and their father his life! Shame to you!" Tarja heard poison dripping from this man's voice as he screamed in anger at Altair's apparent mistakes.

'One of many...and many more to come…' Tarja thought hopelessly for her friend. She felt a kind warmth enveloping her, and smelled her father's scent. For a moment she thought she was back home before Altair came and before she had so much grief of her shoulders.

"What will we do with you, Altair?" the man holding her shouted. It was her brother, Malik. She felt the vibration of his chest and the booming in his voice as he scolded Altair. She still had not opened her eyes and thought it best not to. So they remained closed…

**Is this any good? Shall I continue? Is it interesting and make you want to find out what happens? Please review! :D seeya!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright so I'm back for another go with this story and I'm making a pact that I will finish it before winter break which begins December 17 so wish me luck! Here we go, chapter 2!**

"Tarja….awake?...brought…" was all Tarja could make out from my mumbled sound of a man in her presence. She slowly awoke from her sleep and started to open her eyes, then squinting them shut because of the bright light that filled the room. Once she opened her eyes she adjusted to her surroundings and groaned.

"Good morning, Tarja," her brother, Malik said, standing at the side of her bed, picking up a cup of water. Then, Tarja saw something that seemed strange…It looked like Malik was missing an arm.

'I must be just groggy and can't see it under his cloak,' she thought and tried to see his right arm under the cloak he wore. She saw no sign of an arm. Tarja's heart sank and she sat up slowly, her long brown hair falling behind her strand by strand. Her breathing started to get heavy and fast, so loud that Malik could hear it. She swallowed a hard lump in her throat and began to hyperventilate. Malik gave her a concerned look.

"Tarja? What's the matter? You look pale as if you are going to faint," Malik said and reached his one hand for her face. Indeed, Tarja felt the life drain from her face, and then felt Malik's hand touch her forehead. She stopped breathing for a moment and looked inside Malik's cloak when he bent over.

Her eyes froze, and her heart started racing. Then, after a few seconds of eerie silence, Tarja screamed as if she had witnessed a murder.

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhaaaaaaaaaah! Malik!" she screamed. Malik pulled away quickly but then tried to grab a hold of his frantic younger sister with his one arm. She squirmed and continued to scream into his ear now.

"Aaaaah! Your arm! Malik your arm is gone!" she screamed, now through tears that had come upon her all of the sudden.

"Tarja Tarja, shhh! I know, I know! It's alright, look at me I'm okay, shhhhhh…" he cooed to her as he held her close to his chest. Her screaming ceased and she began to cry harder into her brothers chest and clutched onto him, now wailing in tears.

"Who did this to you? How did this happen?" Tarja asked through her sobs.

"It was an accident, Altair made a mistake in Solomon's Temple, and it was an accident," Malik said, trying to sugarcoat the situation. Tarja continued to cry in Malik's chest.

"She is finally awake. Malik, I need to talk to you," a voice said from the doorway of the castle guest room. Malik and Tarja looked toward the voice. It was Altair. Malik stared him down a few seconds, still holding Tarja.

"I'll be out in a few minutes. Please wait for me," Malik began to say. He looked down to see Tarja fuming through her tears and holding her breath. "Tarja, what's wrong now? It's just Altair," he said, trying to calm her rage.

"You did this!" Tarja screamed at the top of her lungs and lunged herself from Malik and onto Altair. She tried to hit him but he evaded all her attempts. Tarja let out a scream of pure rage and flung her hand towards his face and slapped him clean. Altair froze. Tarja stood, panting after her rage was released, and went again to hit him after bracing herself. This time, Altair grabbed her wrist mid-aim in an iron grip.

"Let! Go! Of me!" Tarja shouted, trying to break free from his grasp.

"You cannot break free of my grasp, you're not strong enough," Altair said toneless.

"Stop it! Both of you!" Malik shouted from the bed.

"Why do you do this to us? Why do you ruin everything! You crippled my brother! You lead to the death of my father! Why did you do this! Your arrogance killed my mother! Why do you always push things that are already unstable enough! You have caused us so much pain! What has happened to Izrail? Have you crippled him, too?" Tarja bellowed, still adamantly fighting Altair's grasp.

Altair took the works with a grain of salt, standing still. He fought the urge to defend his actions, but didn't because deep down he knew she was right.

"Izrail is dead." Altair said. Tarja's face softened to a straight, wide-eyed ghost-look. Altair felt her arm go limp him his grasp, and he let it drop to her side. He looked at her face with such guilt that he didn't dare show. Altair glanced at Malik, who was giving him a stern look, and he left the room quickly. He took one last look at the heart-broken girl before hesitating to leave, then finally exiting.

Altair felt awful for all the pain Tarja rightfully accused on him. He walked, not an expression on his face.

'Why do I do these things…' he thought, before leaving the castle…

Altair sat upon a bench near the gates of Masayaf. All around him, people were rebuilding the damages caused by Robert de Sable and his men. There was a cart not too far from Altair that held several limp bodies covered in dried blood. Dead bodies that were dead because of him. A figure walked out of the corner of his eye and he turned to see who it was. It was Tarja. Altair held his breath as he watched her cross his field of vision. She had a gentle face, swept with grief. Her very long, brown hair was tied into a braid as it always had been. She wore the same brown, conservative dress she had always worn. It covered her curves, and showed no chest, ankle, or wrist. She carried with her a basket of goods from the market.

How could he cause such a simple, innocent girl such trauma? Altair looked away from her, feeling unworthy of it, though he felt her gaze upon him as he looked away.

Tarja looked away from Altair, and her anger returned. Her past feelings for him were no longer. As a young girl, she loved Altair. She always looked to him for comfort and always watched him as he trained to be an assassin, even as a young boy. Now, Tarja was twenty years old, and wise enough to know that Altair deserved no love from her. Tarja mentally changed the subject and looked inside her basket of goods. She had spent a lot of money on cloths, but she knew now that this was the right path for her.

Once again, that feeling of attraction rose up again from Tarja's soul as it did a few minutes earlier, and she looked back to see Altair was no longer on the bench. Tarja stopped, and looked at the bench for a few more seconds before turning around and walking back home again.

**Still okay? I feel like it's progressing along nicely, but I would love some feedback! Review! Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I think you are deserving of some back story here, and I'm in the mood for it. So enjoy this sappy chapter.**

Tarja unpacked the cloths she had bought from the market onto her bed. The home she lived in with Malik was so empty now. And soon it would be even emptier when Malik would leave in a few days for Jerusalem. He was no use to The Brotherhood now as an assassin. Tarja slammed each item down on her bed, angry at Altair still. The pile of white cloth fell over from Tarja's force, and she picked them back up again. She reached into her bag and placed her red cloth on top of the white, then took out the heavy pile of cow-hide. She set it down on the ground by her bed and sat on the bed, sighing.

'What happened to the innocence we had,' Tarja thought to herself, and let her memories take over…

0000

"Tarja, stop this now! You can't be an assassin you are a woman! You need to stay home and care for your husband who may be an assassin!" Al Mualim scolded the young Tarja as she dressed in white robes to play with her brothers.

"Al Mualim! I don't want to! I want to be an assassin!" she protested. Al Mualim sighed.

"Child," he said, placing a hand on her head, "you are no assassin," he finished. Tarja looked down to the ground and stared at it for a long time…

0000

"Tarja! This beef is superb! You are indeed an excellent cook!" Imod said from the dinner table where he, Malik, and Izrail ate as Tarja watched from the firepit. She smiled sweetly.

"Al Mualim said I cannot be an assassin, so I want to be the best of the best of women!" Tarja said. Imod slammed his fork down. Tarja was startled by Imod's response and gasped a little. He had a stern look on his face.

"What? That bastard said that to you! Tarja, my dear, don't let any man say you can't do something! You are a delicate woman indeed and very in touch with your emotions, but that can't stop you from doing what you want! Don't let him tell you that!" Imod said. Tarja frowned. She was confused now for her purpose…

0000

Tarja's memories played back in her head on loop as she worked on the new clothes she was making from the cloths. With each stitch, she felt closer to what she had wanted for so long, and now that she had no one left, there was nothing for her to lose.

'Even if I lose my life…I will make my father proud. I will do what I have dreamed of, and I will avenge this family,' Tarja thought. She held up a white hood from her lap and used a blade to cut the excess thread from the edges.

'I will kill him…'

Tarja worked through the night on her uniform. So many thoughts were racing through her head and such rage and adrenaline dominated these thoughts. The sound of the summer crickets could be heard from outside, and they soothed her. She stopped her sewing and took in a deep breath, closing her eyes. She missed her family.

'Why did I ever waste my love on him...' Tarja thought to herself. She then became agitated and started her sewing again. Altair would pay for what he had done to her family, though she still could not put these feelings for him to death. Every so often, Tarja would see a glimmer of hope and reform from Altair, and would pray that he fix himself before he causes more pain. But all that hope is drowned when he makes more mistakes, costing Tarja's family.

She wondered what he was doing this very moment, and she wondered if he was thinking of her. She looked outside of her small window at the castle up at the top of the slopes she lived on. In another life, she would love him with all her heart. But his soul was troubled, and Tarja needed to put his grief, and her own, to rest. But still, she always wondered inside if she would ever be together in the end. He was strong, brave, and determined. He was something she would never get to be and she loved him for it. He was good and gentle to her.

Tarja kicked herself mentally.

'He murdered your family,' she reassured herself and continued to sew…

Altair sat on a ledge outside the city of Masayaf, looking over the soft plains of his land. The sun's rays had just begun to peer from the horizon, tinting the sky a cool lavender. He squinted his eyes as the sun blinded him. He wondered how Tarja was. He knew he owed her his apology, but he knew it wouldn't be enough.

Altair sat on that windy ledge for the rest of the sun's rising, watching it for every inch. He sighed. Tarja didn't need his apology. It wasn't his fault.

A sudden crackle of the dry grass behind him made him turn with alarm, unsheathing his hidden blade. He took a look at his adversary, readied himself to attack, but then held himself back. The figure was dressed as he was, in pearly white, clean robes. The same red sash was wrapped around its waist, defining _her _curves.

"Tarja…" Altair said both confused, and mortified. Tarja titled her head down as to hide her face. And within an instant, she was upon him, trying to hold a simple cotton shear to his throat. Altair was taken off guard at her attack, but pushed her off him slowly. Their eyes met as he pushed her away.

They were cold, hateful, and full of agony. They were red and puffy from tears, and no decent sleep. It was all Altair's fault. His face softened into one of guilt and sympathy, and he pried the cotton shear from Tarja's hands with all his strength, and threw it to the side.

Tarja whimpered when he stripped her of her weapon, and she struggled to break free, but Altair had grabbed a hold of her waist and arms, restraining her into his chest. She squirmed and screamed and demanded to be let go.

"Altair! Let me go! I'm going to kill you! I will kill you! I will!" her screams faded into powerless threats, then to mere words. Tarja had given up on struggling, and became silent. Altair held her in shock for a few more seconds, then released her gently. She kept her head down. Altair wanted to speak, but couldn't conjure anything to say. Not a word came to mind.

With a gasp for air, Tarja fell to her knees before Altair and gripped his knees as hard as she could, and she wept.

"Why? Why why why why why?" she screamed with desperation. Altair said nothing.

"You disgusting excuse for a man! Assassins are supposed to be noble and-! And-!" she couldn't finish her thought. Altair knelt down to her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Tarja," he began. Tarja looked up at him with scorn, and spat at his face. Altair didn't budge. He took her insult.

"I beg your forgiveness," he said. Tarja's eyes shrank. She stumbled out pieces of words before she said through gritted teeth,

"You…beg my…forgiveness?" she hissed. Altair continued to look into her eyes. "You think it is that simple? What makes you think I should forgive _you_. Look at me! Look what a fool and a monster you have made of me!" she screamed at him.

"I have nothing left." Altair said. Tarja froze, and was silent. Did he say what she heard? Was he…truthful? Altair continued, "As much as I want to repent what I have done, and how much I desire to just make you happy for once and to erase the past, it still exists…Tarja, I am just as scared as you.."

Tarja swallowed and tried to hold back her tears. "You…you don't mean that," she said while choking on her tears.

"I do," Altair said. Tarja stared at him for a little longer before she pried herself from his touch and stood. She looked at Altair as if she was going to say something, but didn't. Instead, she walked away, stripping herself of the assassin uniform she had toiled on the entire night before. Altair watched her go. He had caused her so much pain, she attempted to kill him. He knew that Tarja knew she wouldn't be able to, but what could possibly drive a person to face an impossible battle to feel complete. He made her do it. He thought of running to her, but didn't know what he would do if she would allow him to talk to her more, so he stayed where he was and watched her leave…

**Well, what now? R+R!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm really on a roll here….Evanescence's new song Lost In Paradise totally inspired the mood of this chapter if ya wanna give it a listen to catch my drift…**

It had been a whole week since Tarja's failed attack on Altair, and she refrained from coming outside of her home. What she had done was rash, foolish, and childish. And now, with Malik now gone for two whole days already, Tarja felt the worst was about to come for her. Her entire existence now felt soiled. She was so lost and strayed from her path, ready to take the life of someone else to put her anger to rest. She knew now that that wouldn't do a thing.

Altair was leaving today to perform a series of assassinations of Templars who were linked to the attack on Masayaf. Tarja wasn't sure exactly, but she was worried. She had come to the conclusion that killing Altair wouldn't solve anything, and that the only thing that would heal her heart was time. She hadn't spoken to Altair since that day the previous week, and he had said nothing about it to anyone else. If Al Mualim knew what she had done, she would be punished indefinitely.

Suddenly, from her bedroom window, Tarja heard Altair's voice, and sprung from her bed to peer out the window. She looked down into the city streets to see him walking through the crowds towards the gates of the city. This was it. Tarja wanted so badly to rush down her stairs, burst out her door, and give him one last embrace before he left. She didn't want his last memory of her to be an attempted murder. She knew exactly what she wanted to do, to tell him everything. But yet, something held her back. Something chained her to simply peering out the window at Altair and not acting. She backed away from the window and watched Altair walk out of the city and out of her life for God knew how long. It was the end, she failed to tie off the loose ends with Altair. Now, she really was alone.

Tarja snaked away from her window and back to her bed, taking shelter underneath the scratchy covers. She pulled them close to her face and inhaled their musty scent. How she longed for the scent to be his…

000

Altair rode away from Masayaf on his big, powerful white horse. Though, there was something that he felt was trying to keep him at Masayaf. Something awful. It was Tarja, he knew that. But he couldn't help but feel he was endangering her in some way. He shook off the paranoia and focused on his mission at hand: to assassinate the men Al Mualim had told him to. But no matter how hard he tried, Tarja was still stuck on his mind. Ever since her outburst a week earlier, he began to see his mistakes in a new light. It was her, in the end, that inspired him to change, and to be a better man.

And then, Altair came to a decision. When he would return next, he would go to Tarja, and he would speak to her of his discipline and his success, and grow as a man because of her. He wanted to prove to her that he was not lost, and he could repent himself. The amount of regret he owed to Tarja needed to be paid in actions, not words.

Night had begun to fall on the assassin's back. His horse was at a slow walk now, and the day's heat had begun to cease with the sunlight. Altair felt the heat he had retained in his robes from the sun exhale, and he begun to feel the Fertile Crescent's unloving night begin. The sky was a deep purple now, and still, Altair continued to think and ponder his new mission: to beg forgiveness from Tarja.

Altair settled down next to a large pile of hay and tied off the reins of his horse near the hay. He had laid down on the soft hay and had been trying to get some sleep, but couldn't get his mind now off the times he and Tarja shared before all his mistakes and arrogance took wing.

Tarja was a quiet, polite girl then. She always greeted Altair sweetly whenever he walked by her, and he never once gave her as sweet a greeting.

Tarja would make him warm meals and drinks when he would return from a long, frustrating day, and he never accepted them due to his own pride.

Tarja tried so hard to get through to him, but he threw it all in her face, and there he was, regretting everything.

Altair decided to stop dwelling on Tarja for the day and got to sleep. He buried himself under the hay and let himself fall asleep…and he was still thinking of her…

Altair awoke the next morning quickly and quietly before dawn. After assembling his gear and waking up a little more, he mounted his horse and continued onward for Jerusalem; his first destination. Malik would be there, and he could consul him on his feelings, he owed Malik and apology as well…

000

"Well, I don't quite know what else you want me to do, Malik. I apologized for my behavior," Altair finished. He had just been through a grueling argument with Malik, who seemed to not accept his apology. Altair was getting frustrated now. Not because Malik wouldn't forgive him right away, but because he appeared to expect more from Altair. "Do you want me to somehow travel back in time and repent what I have done?"

"Actually, if you could do that, it would be preferred!" Malik said. Altair glared at him, he was not happy. "See, this is what I don't seem to understand, Altair. You come in here, and you address me kindly with your apology and regret. I don't condemn you for that. But it's the fact that you think that mere words will solve the problem. And yet you still tire from this argument!" Malik said. Altair winced.

"Alright, I understand. But do you not appreciate that I want to change, and I want to make it better for you and Tarja?" Altair said. Malik sighed.

"Dear friend," he said, and placed his only hand on Altair's shoulder. "I thank you for you taking responsibility and apologizing, but it is not that simple. If you truly want to repent, then take it upon yourself to show us. Not by bribing, may I add. I don't want you lavishing my sister with riches and expect everything to be okay. But," he paused. Altair listened, desperate to finally put the situation to rest. "I do want you to recognize opportunities where you can express your sorrow from the heart," Malik said.

"Brother, I will do that. I will try my best to heal you and Tarja's souls," Altair said. He turned to leave the Assassin's Bureau to proceed in his investigation.

"Altair!" Malik called out as Altair reached the doorway. Altair turned and looked at Malik. Malik smiled and walked over to him, handing a feather to him. "Don't let your emotions cloud your mission," he said. Altair looked at Malik for a few seconds, then proceeded to leave the Bureau onto his investigation.

Malik walked back over to his desk and picked up the compass with his right hand and began plotting out a route for Altair to escape from Jerusalem after his assassination. He then wondered if Tarja was safe alone in Masayaf. Malik set the compass down and stretched his back, and sighed.

'The people in Masayaf are good, but still…I wonder if I should bring Tarja here with me. She may be lonely and in need of me. I am all she has left,' he pondered the well-being of Tarja a little longer before picking the compass back up and resuming his work.


	5. Chapter 5

**These chapters need to be longer….**

Malik could hear the big city bells ringing from the Bureau. Altair had made his assassination and was probably on his way back to the Bureau that very moment. He had been gone for about a full day now, and this was a personal record for him. Malik was sitting down in the back room of the Bureau, reading an old fiction novel taking place in ancient Saudi Arabia. He heard a rustle and a thud, followed by exhausted pants coming from the other room.

Malik stood and placed his book down on the wooden chair he was sitting on. He made his way to the main area of the Bureau to see Altair propping himself on the doorway and breathing heavily. He wiped beads of sweat from his brow and pulled his hood off his head, letting it hang behind him.

"Altair, come inside!" Malik ordered and pulled Altair in from the doorway. "Do you want the guards on the rooftop to see you?" he said and walked quickly into the sun room, pulling the entry hatch shut with a rope tied on the end of it. He rushed back into the main room and shut the door behind him. Altair had sat on some cushions scattered in the corner of the room, and was resting against the cold wall behind him. Malik went behind his desk and took a sip of wine he had sitting out. "I trust your mission was successful?" Malik asked, his right hand on the desk.

Altair pulled a blood-stained feather from one of his hip pouches and held it up for Malik to see. "Of course." He said and lowered the feather into his lap.

"Do you know where Al Mualim will have you go next?" Malik asked.

"Damascus," Altair said, looking off to the side.

Malik gave him a puzzled look. "Does something ail you, friend?" he asked.

Altair shrugged.

"Well, something is ailing me, indeed," Malik said and came around the desk to lean against the stone wall Altair was propped up against to better converse with him.

Altair looked up at him slowly. "What is it?" he asked.

Malik smiled. "Tarja, wouldn't you know?" he said.

Altair looked back down to the feather in his lap and fiddled with it. "Oh, I wouldn't know. I haven't thought of her all that much since I left," he said.

Malik was no fool. He pushed further, "Well," and paused. "I think she may be endangered by living alone like she does now. She has no family to keep her company, and she's not fond of spending nights alone. I was considering going back to Masayaf for her and bringing her to the Bureau with me. It's not right for her to be alone like that," he said, trying to get some emotion out of Altair.

"Malik, if that's what you want, then do it. I'm sure she would appreciate the new city. It would keep her mind…" he looked away from Malik, then back at the feather. "I just think it's a good idea," he said.

Malik cocked his head to the side and put his hand in his pocket. "It would keep her mind off of…hating you?" he said, obviously knowing that is what Altair meant to say.

"Well, I guess you could say that. She's all alone and has nothing else to think about. I wouldn't blame her," Altair said.

Malik looked at him for a few seconds, and took his hand out of his pocket before heading back to his desk to do a once-over of the exit plan he had made for Altair. "So I have you exiting through the south exit of Jerusalem, it has the least amount of guards. So, when you assassinate them, the word of your presence will travel slowly, giving you more time to escape.

Altair nodded, not really interested. "Alright," he said. He heard the sound of a carrier pigeon flapping her wings and landing on her roost just outside the Bureau. She began cooing.

Malik sighed, "Maybe I'll just go tomorrow back to Masayaf to see if Tarja wants to come live with me here." He said.

"A pigeon is here, you know," Altair said.

Malik began to walk to the roost, talking to Altair the whole way. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind it, there are a lot of shops here and a big social community for her to get into," he was out of the room now. "I think she came here once with our parents when she was really little, 3 I think. But either way, I think that she…." Malik stopped talking.

Altair listened for him to continue after he finished reading the message. He didn't. Altair leaned over from where he sat to try and see Malik in the other room by the pigeon's window. "Malik?" he shouted? There was no answer.

Malik hadn't answered for about a minute. Altair stood up from the cushions and made his way to the room where Malik was reading the message. Altair stopped in the doorway. Malik was standing, motionless with the message in his hand at his side. He was looking out the window. Altair walked over to him and looked at his face from the side. He was stoic. Altair looked down to the message in Malik's hand and took it from him gently, propping it up to read.

_Malik: Bureau Leader of Jerusalem,_

_This message is to inform you that your sister, Tarja, has been abducted. A day ago, four suspicious-looking men came into Masayaf with a horse-drawn cart asking for women who wanted to join the Church and become nuns. Tarja was one of the women who volunteered to go. There was a total of ten women who decided to go with the men, all young. That evening, one of the women came back to Masayaf in hysterics claiming these men were actually traders and held the women up at a brothel auction where the brothel's directors could buy girls. This woman had escaped and told us she was the only one. Unfortunately, your sister has been sold into a brothel owned by a Harujj Usman. The location of his brothel is unknown. Sympathy for your loss. Peace to you, Brother._

Altair let the letter fall from his grasp. Look what Altair had done now. Now, because of all his mistakes, he landed her in the brothel of some man. She hadn't been in an environment like that before, who knew what this man Usman was doing with her at this very moment. Altair tensed up to the thought of anyone touching her. He came to his senses and looked over to Malik, who was still stoic.

"Malik," Altair said. No response. "Malik!" he shouted. Malik looked over to him shallowly. Altair felt the sting of his gaze. "We can fix this. We will get her back," Altair said. Malik looked at him a little while longer, then turned and headed for the main room of the Bureau.

"We can't save her. She's gone," he said. Altair frowned, and followed him. He cut in front of Malik quickly as he entered the Bureau's main room and grabbed him by the shoulders, staring him straight in the eye.

"You can't just give up on her like that. I know, Malik. I know this is my fault and I've made a lot of stupid choices! But she's still alive, we can fix this! She's out there scared as she is and you don't want to find her?" Altair scolded. Malik broke his grasp and went behind his desk. He then turned to Altair and held his hand before his body.

"Altair look at me! I've got one arm! What can I do to save her? I need one arm to keep her safe when I break her out and one to push away anyone who gets in my way!" Malik shouted. Altair fell silent. "Even if I had both arms still, I don't even know where this place is. What makes you think I can figure it out," he said, flailing his arm up and turning back to his work, staring blankly at it.

"Well, if you aren't going to get her, I will," Altair said. Malik looked over at him.

"You don't have to go on a valiant search to get my forgiveness, that's not what I had in mind,"

"I'm not doing it for you," Altair said. Malik looked up at him again and stared. Altair turned to exit the Bureau, and did so. Malik looked down at his maps, then back up at the empty doorway.

"Altair!" he shouted. After a few seconds, Altair appeared back in the doorway. Malik paused. "Let me help you," he said.

0000

Shouts of the Jerusalem guards could be heard behind Malik and Altair. They were running out of the south entrance to the city as Malik had planned, and were now free out of the city, sprinting to their horses.

"You couldn't handle those guards any quieter could you?" Malik said to Altair through heavy panting. Altair turned to him and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not." An arrow flung past Malik's head and whooshed along his ears.

"Dear Allah they're close! Hurry!" He shouted and the two assassins' sped up, closing in on their horses. With a swift unsheathe of his sword, Altair cut the ropes tying the horses to their posts, causing them to whinny. Malik and Altair swiftly mounted their horses, Malik taking a little longer due to his one arm, but Altair pushed him the rest of the way up while already kicking his horse's sides, and the two galloped away from the stables, evading arrows occasionally. They heard the faint sound of guards' shouts becoming quieter and quieter as they rode further from Jerusalem. They were headed to Masayaf, to find any means of rescuing Tarja.

**Weeeeeeell? What do you think? Good plot twist? Lemme know! I'll try to update by mid-next week but school has the best of me now, damn midterms! **


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm really excited to write this chapter! I have been staying away from Tarja to build the suspense and now I'm so excited to just show you what's going on with her! Enjoy!**

"You have ten more minutes until we open for the night, women! Hurry it up you whores!" Usman shouted at the myriad of young girls, all nude and dressing into their courting outfits for the night. There was fear in the air, and resentment. All the girls living at the brothel were bought by Usman, and all wanted their freedom more than anything. The girls hurried and dressed as they always did. The new ones hesitated with Usman standing and watching them. Among these new girls was Tarja. She began sliding off her usual brown dress, but hesitated when her hands began to shake.

"You there!" Usman shouted in Tarja's direction. Her heart sank and she hurried in taking off her dress. Usman walked over to her as Tarja pretended to not notice. She was fully naked now. Usman took her by the neck and pulled her face to his. He examined her as a merchant examined his goods. Usman finally looked into her eyes after he groped her breasts. "You are so fortunate to be the kind of woman a man would pursue," he sneered and pushed her face to the side and began to walk away. Tarja froze and put a hand to her face, beginning to tear up. She choked back her tears when Usman turned and called for her attention. "Take out that braid, men hate that," he barked and walked out of the dressing rooms. Tarja held her breath for a few more seconds and fell to her knees in tears and whimpers, completely naked. A few girls turned their heads at her, but then quickly resumed in their own business for fear of being punished.

Tarja sat there for a few minutes before swallowing her tears and standing up. She began to dress herself and wipe her nose and eyes of any evidence of her crying. She wanted Malik, her home…and Altair. She had been fooled into thinking she could escape her life and go into one of solitude; a nun. All she wanted was to leave her old life behind and start fresh, and in a sense, she was.

"Women!" Usman shouted unpleasantly from the main courting room. Tarja quickly gasped and tied the rest of her clothes on, which consisted of a patterned blue wrap skirt exposing most of her leg, a wrap cloth over her chest, exposing much of her chest, and several pieces of extravagant jewelry. She then rushed to follow the group of girls who had already begun to leave, taking out her braid as she walked. Her hair was kinked and wavy, and she took one last look into the mirror before stepping through the curtains into the main court room. A woman dressed in pink beside her looked over at Tarja and stared for a few seconds.

"What is it?" Tarja asked timidly, noticing her stare.

"Have you been penetrated before?" the woman asked. Tarja gasped and blushed at this question, then slowly shook her head no. The woman frantically looked around, and pulled a blue handkerchief from a hook hanging on the wall next to where the curtains were. She turned and handed it quickly to Tarja. "Here, you need to put this over your face. Usman will beat you if you don't show your purity to the men here," she said. Tarja looked at her with desperate eyes, and froze. The woman sighed and looked back at the crowd of growing men. "The best way to survive here is to just….obey," she said. Tarja's breathing began to quicken, and she took the handkerchief from the woman's hand and tied it over her nose and mouth quickly. She looked out at the sea of men, wanting her body, and felt the blood drain from her face. She then looked back to the woman dressed in her pink harem pants and the same breast covering as her. Her black hair was tied high up into a ponytail, and her eyes were decorated with thick black lining from charcoal. Tarja spoke,

"I'm Tarja," she said. The woman looked over at her.

"Turunen," she said and turned back to the crowd. Usman stepped up in front of the girls and faced the men. He was a heavyset man, and dressed in lavish purple robes and plentiful rings to display his wealth.

"Welcome, men!" he said to the sea of men, some old, some young, some bearded, some rich, and some poor. Tarja swallowed hard. Usman spoke of the brothel and the girls, objectifying them. Tarja couldn't bear to listen. She only thought of her home, Malik, and of Altair. That was her comfort. Soon, Usman finished talking, and the girls all turned to walk down a few steps into the community area. Tarja was caught off guard, and reluctantly walked with the girls. She looked around at them frantically, for any face of fear like hers to identify with. Then she looked in front of her at Turunen, and wanted to be with her so badly.

When the crowd of girls scattered, Tarja was alone. She looked around her and saw them talking with men at tables that were embellished with cloths of golds and purples and reds. The women all knew how to act here, and Tarja did not. She then felt an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, and she scanned the room quickly for Turunen, and then spotted her talking with 3 men at a booth dressed in red. She hurried over to her table and sat down on the end seat, next to a middle-aged man with a tired face. She looked at Turunen, who gave her a confused look. Tarja then looked over at the man next to her, who was eating her alive with his stare. Tarja's heart sank, and she started to stand quickly to leave the booth, but the man had a firm grasp of her wrist, and was not about to let go. Tarja froze.

What now? He had her chained. If she made a scene, Usman would punish her, but if she complied, she would lose all her dignity, and all her privacy.

Tarja sat down slowly next to the man with an emotionless face, which was covered by the cloth on her face. The man leaned over to her slowly and whispered in her ear with a gnarly voice,

"I see the cloth on your face." He leaned back and Tarja didn't dare look him in the eye, so she stayed still. The man loosened his grip on her wrist and gently slid it to her thigh under the table and began to caress it. Tarja glanced at Turunen, who was busy flirting with the other two men, and didn't pay attention to her. So badly Tarja wanted to scream and escape back to Masayaf. She wanted her life back. Tarja felt tears well up in her eyes, and she did something very desperate. She leaned in close to the man next to her and whispered back,

"Please take me home, I am so scared, please get me out of here," she said and leaned back to where she was, shaking. She felt the man burning a stare into her face, but didn't look back. The next thing she felt was the man's hand in between her legs, caressing her very close to her sex, and making her shiver even more. He then leaned close again and hissed in her ear,

"Your fear is making me want your purity even more." Tarja's face turned pale, and she began to pant heavily. She felt the sweat under her skin start to leak through and drip down her face. She didn't dare to move, she was too afraid to do anything. Then, the man's hand was on her sex, and inside her sex. Tarja felt a scream rise in her throat, but swallowed it, and did nothing….

"Hold still, and stretch your legs out more," Tarja complied to this same man's wishes, still fear-stricken. He had her on her back in one of the private rooms of the brothel, separated from the commune by a tall, purple curtain. The room was littered with royal-looking pillows, and empty wine goblets. Tarja lay on her back, her breasts pulled from the wrap, and her sex exposed from her wrap. The man was over her now, ready to penetrate her now. He reached up to her face and pulled off the cloth defining her virginity and threw it to the side. "You are no longer a virgin," he said and touched his penis to the skin of her vagina. Tarja mentally curled into a little ball and felt more tears well in her eyes. They leaked out the sides silently and Tarja refused to look the man in the eye. She traveled back to Masayaf in her thoughts and the only picture she could conjure up was Altair.

The man pushed himself into her as far as he could and caught Tarja by surprise. The feeling of it in her made her scream out loud as loud as she could. He didn't stop. He pulled back out and went back in, over and over, faster and faster. Tarja stopped screaming and whimpered instead with each thrust. She didn't want this. It was the most painful thing she had ever felt. She wanted to push him aside and run home, she wanted to be free again. She then realized another thing: she didn't want this man to be the one to have her virginity. She wanted it from someone else.

She wanted Altair.

Tarja felt a rush of pain and was distracted from her thoughts. This man showed her no mercy. She clutched onto a pillow near her hand and shut her eyes, begging, praying for it to end soon. The man would grunt every now and then, and she chose not to listen. She traveled again back to Masayaf, into Altair's gentle embrace, but then she felt something else. She felt…good. As much as his flesh in her hurt and over stretched, she felt an underlying sense of pleasure. She sneered at herself at the feeling.

The man's pace was very fast now, and Tarja felt a rush of feeling through her entire body as she let out a painful sound of desperation. The man finally pushed himself inside her as hard and far as he could, and squeezed her hips, Tarja screamed. Something was flowing through her insides and she couldn't stop it. The man then came out suddenly and stood, pulling Tarja to her knees by her long hair, resulting in a scream.

"Open your mouth!" he ordered. Tarja cried and whimpered, but opened her mouth. The man shoved himself into her mouth and grabbed her scalp, moving it back and forth against him. It tasted of impurity, and loathing. She gagged on him a few times, and this time, truly prayed for salvation. The man made some strange noises then went as far back in her throat as he could. Tarja's eyes watered with sensitivity, and she held her gag. She felt him tense up, and then felt a warm liquid in her mouth. It tasted foul, and made her want to throw up. The man then eased in his muscle and pulled out of her mouth and released her hair. Tarja froze, the liquid still in her mouth, then leaned to the side to spit it out. The man saw this, and slapped her quickly, leaving a red mark on Tarja's face.

Tarja panicked, and looked up to him. His face was full of lust, and anger. "Swallow it. All of it," he said. Tarja mentally gasped, and her heartbeat sped up. She tried to swallow it, but couldn't bring herself to. Once again, she leaned over to spit it out. Once again, the man slapped her, but harder. "Swallow it, or I'll hurt you," he said, threateningly. Tarja felt a fear so intense she had never felt in her life. She was at his whim. She was required to do what he said, however degrading or humiliating, or face the consequences. She closed her eyes, and swallowed the foul liquid, and felt every molecule of it slide down her throat, and into her stomach. She grimaced, and gagged. The man smirked, and turned to put his robes back on. Tarja leaned over, feeling a wave of sickness. The man was clothed now, and looked back at Tarja once more before leaving the room back to the commune, off to pursue another innocent woman. Tarja felt relief in her stomach, but also a feeling of convulsing.

She threw up.

**Well well well! What drama! And I updated early! HOORAY! Okay so now I embark of school projects so you may not hear from me for at most another week but I will try my hardest! Toodles!**


End file.
